A Different Life
by olehistorian
Summary: This is my take on the Chelsie-Prompt on Tumblr entitled "Swimming." Though Charles and Elsie aren't swimming per se, water is involved. Cottage life, grandkids, retirement talk, Modern AU, and a strong-ish T.
A/N: This is my take on the Chelsie-Prompt on Tumblr entitled "Swimming." Though Charles and Elsie aren't swimming per se, water is involved.

With money they've squirreled away for years, they've bought a little cottage that overlooks Loch Fyne. It's a place that they can escape to when London gets too demanding, when Elsie's had enough of solving other people's problems. She is thankful for her column's popularity, but it seems that she is the agony aunt for all of London. For twenty-five years she's received letters and emails about cheating spouses, meddlesome mothers-in-law, horrible bosses, and how to keep one's spouse happy.

She's thankful too for Charles's success, but she knows that he wants to retire. He's been at the university teaching military history for over thirty years and he's ready to slow down a bit. He wants spent time fishing and playing golf. The solitude of it is a respite from the rigors of his profession, from the conferences and the lecture circuit, the endless student conferences, and the grading of papers. He longs to spend time at the cricket club teaching the grandchildren to play. He's told her time and again that David has the aptitude to become a professional cricketer if only he had someone to tutor him and spend time with him on the pitch.

From the moment she saw it, Elsie fell in love with the little cottage on the hillside that overlooks the gorgeously serene blue waters of the loch. With its white washed exterior and slate roof, windows with old, leaded glass that grows wavy with age, the cottage reminds Elsie of her grandparent's house. Dàibhidh and Caitrìona Hughes' cottage was a place full of love and comfort and all night sing-a-longs in front of the old stone fireplace. Dàibhidh played his fiddle and Caitrìona sang while Elsie, Becky and their cousins sat circled around their feet learning old folk songs. Elsie hopes that this little cottage will be the same for her family. Somewhere they will want to return to.

The cottage is a cozy place on a sizable plot of land with a nice garden for Elsie to tend, a wide expanse of lawn for the grandchildren to romp and play, and an old stone byre that Charles uses as a workshop. He's taken to restoring antiques and clocks in particular. He appreciates the intricacies of the gears, wheels, and levers. How once they've been cleaned and repaired, put into motion once again, everything runs in a logical fashion. It's the natural order of things.

In the summer, their grandsons use one half of the byre as a clubhouse from which their cousins, Aunt Alicia's girls, are forbidden entrance. The only one of the girls who really protests is fifteen year-old Mary, who refuses to be forbidden anything.

Though Charles and Elsie only spend a week or two at a time here, she's tried to make it cozy, tried to make it a home for them. Inside, the roughhewn centuries-old beams supporting the ceiling juxtapose nicely against the warm dove grey walls and the massive stone fireplace in the sitting room. She bought Charles an oversized leather chair and placed it between the fireplace and the window so that he could keep his feet toasty while he looks out at the sea on cold winter nights. Charles has filled the house with antiques that he's refinished, a farm table he's brought back to life, and a grandfather clock that stands proudly in one corner. And even though she hates the thing, thinks it an eyesore, Elsie's hung his stuffed fish on the wall and it seems a small price to pay, hanging that horrible fish if it makes him happy.

Pictures of Charlie and Emma and Alicia and George and their families cover the walls and pepper the tables. Charlie's three boys and Alicia's four girls, every one of them wrapped around Charles's little finger, bring he and Elsie such joy they never thought it possible. When all of them visit the cottage on holiday they are packed in close, but Charles and Elsie don't mind because all of their babes are home together.

The master bedroom is modest, a big, comfortable bed dominates the center of the room covered in a quilt that Elsie's mother handed down to her. A tall black walnut wardrobe stands in against the wall and holds their clothes. They don't bring much with them when they make the journey from London. A suit for Charles and a nice dress for Elsie in case they visit with friends at a nice restaurant. But mostly they bring comfortable pajamas, shirts, trousers and jumpers; things that are soft, warm and comfortable.

The second bedroom is equally as warm and inviting. Elsie's decorated it with her granddaughters in mind, touches of soft pinks, lavenders, yellows, and greens. Two double beds, covered with soft duvets and littered with stuffed animals, await the girls and when the girls stay over the cottage is filled with activity and mostly sweet voices. Sometimes it's difficult to keep Alicia's two older girls Mary and Emma from sparring over the most unimportant things.

The cottage has been abuzz with activity this week as all of the children have come to visit. When Charles feels overwhelmed with the chaos of it all, seven children from the ages of eight to sixteen scurrying about for a week in close quarters, Elsie is the calm in the storm and she manages the house, the children, and him effortlessly.

* * *

Elsie hurries her men outside and suggests an impromptu cricket lesson. A breath of fresh air and teaching the boys the proper technique of the game always seems to soothe Charles's nerves. In the end, she and the girls are called out on the expansive yard for a match. Girls versus boys. Granny and the girls always prove a force to be reckoned with.

After the cricket match, when Grandad and the boys are spent and resting, Elsie and the younger girls, twins Ann and Bess, retreat to the kitchen. Blond, slight, and pale like their father, kind and wise beyond their years like Elsie, they'd rather be in the kitchen with their granny where she patiently instructs them in baking Shepard's pie and shortbread, teaches them to be attentive to every detail of keeping house and how to attend to the comfort of others.

Mary and Emma play cards at the kitchen table and talk about school and their boyfriends. Without appearing to eavesdrop, Elsie does just that. She's mastered the art of carrying on a conversation with one person while listening to everything going on around her. She's told Charles that it's a skill that all women must learn and that it comes in handy in her profession and in raising daughters and granddaughters. Elsie sometimes worries that Mary is too confident for her own good and she hopes that Emma will find her own way and step out of her sister's shadow.

After dinner the boys retreat out the byre and Charles to his workshop. It isn't long before Charles finds his middle grandson William at his side. William, tall and slim, a strong but gentle soul, helps Charles with the cleaning of the clocks, helps to clean the old grease from the components. He polishes the chains and cases. For his efforts, Charles slips him a handful of pound notes but William refuses; he tells Charles that he simply enjoys the time with his Grandad. David and Tom busy themselves tinkering with the old car that Charles and Elsie inherited when they bought the place.

When night comes and the house falls quiet, Charles and Elsie find themselves exhausted. While they love having the girls spend time with them, Elsie finds it difficult sometimes to keep them all corralled while keeping Mary and Emma's arguments at bay.

The boys are so much easier, emotionally at least. Charles revels in how quick and strong they are and that they are growing into thoughtful young men. He and Elsie are proud that they will carry the Carson name into the next generation.

He and Elsie are amazed by the girls. They are maturing into intelligent young women and growing lovelier by the day. Charles and Elsie know that each one of them will, one day, leave their mark on the world.

"It's been a good week," Charles whispers against her neck as he draws her close and slides his hand over her hip, around her waist. Her back fits perfectly against his chest.

"Hmmm, it has," she answers quietly. "You should check on the boys."

"They're fine, Elsie" Charles murmurs as he pulls her closer, moves her hair to the side, and places kiss to the back of her neck, nips the soft skin a bit. It's very evident that what he's up to.

"Charlie…" Elsie whispers low and smoky. "The bairns are here. We can't." Despite her protest, she feels the heat begin to rise across her chest and the places that her husband is beginning to delicately trail his fingertips and where his lips nip at her skin. "We're grandparents now," she weakly tries to reason.

"I'll be quiet," he promises her as his hand slides across the plain of her stomach and finds her breast. "We've practice. We were parents once with two children in the house." Just as his touch becomes insistent, they hear the muted voices of the younger girls and the louder voices of Mary and Emma arguing.

"I do wish that Mary would be nicer to Emma," Elsie declares with a huff, the nice moment with Charles broken by the commotion upstairs.

"She's just trying to assert her place as the eldest," Charles reasons.

"Mary could hit you about the head with a brick and you'd think she did no wrong. You really ought to discipline her when she takes that tone with Emma," Elsie sighs. "What is that?"

"That's…. that's…laughter. See, Elsie, they're over it already," Charles asks as he snuggles a bit closer to Elsie and brushes his fingertips through her hair. "Sounds like a pillow fight to me."

"I'm going up to tell them to go to bed," Elsie replies with determination.

"Oh, what are they hurting? They are all going home tomorrow and well, girls will be girls."

"Charles, it's half one," Elsie sighs again. She throws the covers off with the intent of marching upstairs and with a sharp rap to the door breaking up the late night giggle as she has many times before.

But Charles leans up and reaches out to gently grab her around the waist and tug her back into bed. Despite the withering gaze she gives him, she settles back into bed next to him. As she snuggles in close, she cannot stay upset with him for long and the noise that the girls are making soon becomes less annoying as Charles's kisses become increasingly more distracting.

* * *

It's evening and the Carsons are alone and the cottage is quiet. Finally.

The grandchildren left a day ago and though Charles and Elsie are sad to see them leave, they've only another week before they return to London themselves and a bit of peace and quiet is in order.

Charles cautiously dips a toe into the bubbling water and tests the temperature. Breathing a sigh of contentment when it is just the right temperature he lowers himself into the hot tub. He'd been against installing one, he'd seen no need in such fads, but when Elsie reminded him of how much he enjoyed one at the hotel in Brighton, he relented. The cool Scottish nights and the warmth of the water, made the secluded spot in their garden for the perfect place to relax.

"You know, you were right," he calls to Elsie in the kitchen.

"I'm glad that you finally can admit that after all these years," she laughs teasingly.

The tinkling of her voice causes him to smile, to close his eyes and to truly relax. They've a good life and he his thankful, thankful for the long and happy years of their marriage. For their children and grandchildren. But Charles is beginning to think on retirement and it is nights like these, quiet nights in the country when only the sounds of nature call out, and when he and Elsie are alone that he longs to hang it all up. To hand it off to a younger generation and retire with his wife away to this little cottage. To make it their permanent home.

But he's not sure if she's ready. They've not talked about it in some time and she's a few years younger. Only just turned sixty-three and she still loves writing the column, no matter how much she sometimes protests.

"What's taking so long," he calls to her again.

"I'm just pinning my hair up, I'll be there in a minute," she answers.

Charles hears her humming a happy little melody as she moves about the house. These really are the very best of times he thinks. He closes his eyes, sinks down into the water a little more, and waits for her.

Before long, he hears the water slosh about as Elsie slips into the tub.

"A perfect night for a little soak," she mentions quietly, a hint of something rich and seductive lacing her words.

"Hmmm, it is."

Elsie glides closer to her husband and places the two glasses of wine she's brought with her on the edge of the tub then slips her arms around Charles's neck. She's pressed just close enough to tease him and as her fingers thread through his damp hair, she feels his hands wrap around her waist. His eyes are still closed, but a boyish grin tugs at his lips as one hand drops lower to her bottom and the other trails up her spine. She can feel the slight tremble in his right hand, but it's not been quite so bad lately and the doctor has told them that medicine should help.

"Mrs. Carson, what if the neighbors should catch us?" Charles asks opening his eyes to fully take in his wife's body.

"Charlie we live out in the middle of nowhere," Elsie whispers against his lips before she captures them in a sweetly, teasing kiss.

"But you haven't a swimsuit on."

"No," she replies breathless at his attentions. His hands roam every slope and curve of her body and his kiss at the delicious spot behind her ear elicits a contented and deep sigh. She presses in closer and the effect that she has on her husband still makes her smile after all their years together.

"But you said that we are grandparents now," he kisses against her shoulder.

"They are all the way in London with _their_ parents now." The purr in her voice is the same that he remembers from the first years of their marriage when everything was new to them, exciting. When they were learning together.

"That they are." Charles feels Elsie run the tip of her finger around the elastic of his swim shorts and she gives them a gentle tug. After she's dispatched his shorts, Charles pulls his wife into a tight embrace, every part of their bodies touching and she traces his eyebrows and down his cheek with a slender finger.

"I've been thinking," Elsie muses as she places a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You have," Charles replies a waver in his voice as he's unsure of what's coming next.

"Umm hmm," she answers with another kiss this time to his lips. "It's been nice here. At the cottage I mean."

"It has. I must concede." Charles's lips find their way to her shoulders and he peppers her collar bone with sweet kisses, stops to give an extra kiss to the scar she earned when Becky pushed her from the tree limb as a girl.

"Do you miss London?"

"A little, maybe."

"Hmmm, what if we were to come here more often? Perhaps travel some?"

"That'd be nice," Charles murmurs against her skin. It's obvious that he's distracted so Elsie's decides that she should take the more direct approach.

"Charlie, have you thought about what our life would be like in retirement?" she asks quietly.

He feels his breath leave his body for a moment because she's never been the one to bring up the matter. He was never sure that she would.

"You're ready?"

A small, tight nod is all that she can manage as she looks directly into his eyes.

"It'll be a different life."

"We never shied away from a challenge Charlie," she answers as she leans in to his hand that cups her face. The look in his eyes, smoldering and full of dark, hot passion and years of devotion fill her with joy. She knows that she's made the right decision.

"If you're sure?" he asks seriously.

"I've never been so sure of anything."

* * *

Thank you for reading. A kind word of review would be lovely.


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